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Into the broad room I stepped cautiously. A thick layer of dull blue paint cover the walls and the whole area had the distinct aroma of marker pens which would have been enough to make even the strongest stomachs churn ferociously. In one corner lie several battered lockers that towered proudly over a group of pathetic looking, disjointed tables. Graffiti shielded any possible view of the beautiful oak finish that lie beneath. Turning to my left I noticed the windows were fractured and dusty allowing only a tiny shimmer of glistening light to break through and reflect off a nearby poster. All of these features made me feel like I was just entering a dark, dank loathsome prison. I trembled at the thought of what would come next.
Approaching the first dusty desk I approached with extreme caution I waited for the cruel, bitter teacher to pass and inspect every aspect of me like a commander scanning his panic-stricken army. Nervously, I sat.
Several red patched sheets were then being handed out by the teacher to every student in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet while I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every minute that lie before me.
SNAP! My heart stops. All body movements ceased. Viewing the murky carpet I find a pencil completely annihilated from the intense pressure of my chair. I am so relieved and begin breathing again while stoking my smooth spiky hair. I can feel my burning head create disgusting sweat that trickles slowly down my nose and drops on my delicate hand. I can feel my hand trembling over the empty gaps of my sheet as I desperately try to control the pounding heartbeat in my chest. I write my first word on my sheet. “R-Y-A-N.” I pause and try to control my shaking legs as they repeatedly hit the desk above. Suddenly, the teacher turns and stares coldly at me. Immediately looking at my paper I can almost hear the loud unbearable beating of a drum that is my fear as I continue to journey through the world of vocabulary. I am completely petrified.
Before this test my life was running perfectly like the individual grains of silky smooth sand flowing through an ancient time glass. I had no problems at all. Life was great. Now I am stuck in the containment of a place I have never been before and going through a test I don’t understand. What if I don’t pass? What if I get the worse marks? Questions like these are ricocheting back and forth in my mind, as I become more and more frightened. Oh no! Only eighty minutes left.
As I finish what were the last words for the next hour and a half I shuffle towards my luxurious chair that is my sanctuary, preparing myself for an afternoon of boredom, dullness and tedious questions like “How long left sir?” and “Can I go to the toilet?” As I slump down in my comfy chair I scope round the room looking for troublemakers. They all look calm and quiet except one boy who seems tense and terrified. He is tall, very scraggy and has his hair spiked up like the individual prongs of a hedgehog. I can catch a glimpse of his leg trembling rapidly beneath his desk as he gnaws at his fingernails.
What an idiot! One simple test out of this child’s life and he is treating it as if it is a matter of life or death. I feel like going up to him and telling him that he looks like a moron hoping to make him cry. That would be hilarious. It would also pass at least another ten minutes of what is the most tedious thing I could be doing on a day off. I don’t want to be here any more than the children do. The same old clouted chair and bedraggled carpet make me sick. Oh well only another seventy-five uneventful minutes to go.
“Time’s up!” I place my pencil down and begin to regain my sanity again. After an excruciating hour and a half I survived. My head begins to cool as I fumble around in my pencil case placing every item I used delicately in its place. Even though I have completed my task I can still taste fear in my mouth. The stale but very robust flavour lingers in my mouth. Attempting to leave the room I suddenly pause. Mouth wide open I try to scream but nothing comes out.
Several blue patched sheets are now being handed out by the teacher to every boy in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet as I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every moment that lie before me.
Approaching the first dusty desk I approached with extreme caution I waited for the cruel, bitter teacher to pass and inspect every aspect of me like a commander scanning his panic-stricken army. Nervously, I sat.
Several red patched sheets were then being handed out by the teacher to every student in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet while I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every minute that lie before me.
SNAP! My heart stops. All body movements ceased. Viewing the murky carpet I find a pencil completely annihilated from the intense pressure of my chair. I am so relieved and begin breathing again while stoking my smooth spiky hair. I can feel my burning head create disgusting sweat that trickles slowly down my nose and drops on my delicate hand. I can feel my hand trembling over the empty gaps of my sheet as I desperately try to control the pounding heartbeat in my chest. I write my first word on my sheet. “R-Y-A-N.” I pause and try to control my shaking legs as they repeatedly hit the desk above. Suddenly, the teacher turns and stares coldly at me. Immediately looking at my paper I can almost hear the loud unbearable beating of a drum that is my fear as I continue to journey through the world of vocabulary. I am completely petrified.
Before this test my life was running perfectly like the individual grains of silky smooth sand flowing through an ancient time glass. I had no problems at all. Life was great. Now I am stuck in the containment of a place I have never been before and going through a test I don’t understand. What if I don’t pass? What if I get the worse marks? Questions like these are ricocheting back and forth in my mind, as I become more and more frightened. Oh no! Only eighty minutes left.
As I finish what were the last words for the next hour and a half I shuffle towards my luxurious chair that is my sanctuary, preparing myself for an afternoon of boredom, dullness and tedious questions like “How long left sir?” and “Can I go to the toilet?” As I slump down in my comfy chair I scope round the room looking for troublemakers. They all look calm and quiet except one boy who seems tense and terrified. He is tall, very scraggy and has his hair spiked up like the individual prongs of a hedgehog. I can catch a glimpse of his leg trembling rapidly beneath his desk as he gnaws at his fingernails.
What an idiot! One simple test out of this child’s life and he is treating it as if it is a matter of life or death. I feel like going up to him and telling him that he looks like a moron hoping to make him cry. That would be hilarious. It would also pass at least another ten minutes of what is the most tedious thing I could be doing on a day off. I don’t want to be here any more than the children do. The same old clouted chair and bedraggled carpet make me sick. Oh well only another seventy-five uneventful minutes to go.
“Time’s up!” I place my pencil down and begin to regain my sanity again. After an excruciating hour and a half I survived. My head begins to cool as I fumble around in my pencil case placing every item I used delicately in its place. Even though I have completed my task I can still taste fear in my mouth. The stale but very robust flavour lingers in my mouth. Attempting to leave the room I suddenly pause. Mouth wide open I try to scream but nothing comes out.
Several blue patched sheets are now being handed out by the teacher to every boy in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet as I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every moment that lie before me.
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Into the broad room I stepped cautiously. A thick layer of dull blue paint cover the walls and the whole area had the distinct aroma of marker pens which would have been enough to make even the strongest stomachs churn ferociously. In one corner lie several battered lockers that towered proudly over a group of pathetic looking, disjointed tables. Graffiti shielded any possible view of the beautiful oak finish that lie beneath. Turning to my left I noticed the windows were fractured and dusty allowing only a tiny shimmer of glistening light to break through and reflect off a nearby poster. All of these features made me feel like I was just entering a dark, dank loathsome prison. I trembled at the thought of what would come next.
Approaching the first dusty desk I approached with extreme caution I waited for the cruel, bitter teacher to pass and inspect every aspect of me like a commander scanning his panic-stricken army. Nervously, I sat.
Several red patched sheets were then being handed out by the teacher to every student in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet while I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every minute that lie before me.
SNAP! My heart stops. All body movements ceased. Viewing the murky carpet I find a pencil completely annihilated from the intense pressure of my chair. I am so relieved and begin breathing again while stoking my smooth spiky hair. I can feel my burning head create disgusting sweat that trickles slowly down my nose and drops on my delicate hand. I can feel my hand trembling over the empty gaps of my sheet as I desperately try to control the pounding heartbeat in my chest. I write my first word on my sheet. “R-Y-A-N.” I pause and try to control my shaking legs as they repeatedly hit the desk above. Suddenly, the teacher turns and stares coldly at me. Immediately looking at my paper I can almost hear the loud unbearable beating of a drum that is my fear as I continue to journey through the world of vocabulary. I am completely petrified.
Before this test my life was running perfectly like the individual grains of silky smooth sand flowing through an ancient time glass. I had no problems at all. Life was great. Now I am stuck in the containment of a place I have never been before and going through a test I don’t understand. What if I don’t pass? What if I get the worse marks? Questions like these are ricocheting back and forth in my mind, as I become more and more frightened. Oh no! Only eighty minutes left.
As I finish what were the last words for the next hour and a half I shuffle towards my luxurious chair that is my sanctuary, preparing myself for an afternoon of boredom, dullness and tedious questions like “How long left sir?” and “Can I go to the toilet?” As I slump down in my comfy chair I scope round the room looking for troublemakers. They all look calm and quiet except one boy who seems tense and terrified. He is tall, very scraggy and has his hair spiked up like the individual prongs of a hedgehog. I can catch a glimpse of his leg trembling rapidly beneath his desk as he gnaws at his fingernails.
What an idiot! One simple test out of this child’s life and he is treating it as if it is a matter of life or death. I feel like going up to him and telling him that he looks like a moron hoping to make him cry. That would be hilarious. It would also pass at least another ten minutes of what is the most tedious thing I could be doing on a day off. I don’t want to be here any more than the children do. The same old clouted chair and bedraggled carpet make me sick. Oh well only another seventy-five uneventful minutes to go.
“Time’s up!” I place my pencil down and begin to regain my sanity again. After an excruciating hour and a half I survived. My head begins to cool as I fumble around in my pencil case placing every item I used delicately in its place. Even though I have completed my task I can still taste fear in my mouth. The stale but very robust flavour lingers in my mouth. Attempting to leave the room I suddenly pause. Mouth wide open I try to scream but nothing comes out.
Several blue patched sheets are now being handed out by the teacher to every boy in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet as I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every moment that lie before me.
Approaching the first dusty desk I approached with extreme caution I waited for the cruel, bitter teacher to pass and inspect every aspect of me like a commander scanning his panic-stricken army. Nervously, I sat.
Several red patched sheets were then being handed out by the teacher to every student in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet while I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every minute that lie before me.
SNAP! My heart stops. All body movements ceased. Viewing the murky carpet I find a pencil completely annihilated from the intense pressure of my chair. I am so relieved and begin breathing again while stoking my smooth spiky hair. I can feel my burning head create disgusting sweat that trickles slowly down my nose and drops on my delicate hand. I can feel my hand trembling over the empty gaps of my sheet as I desperately try to control the pounding heartbeat in my chest. I write my first word on my sheet. “R-Y-A-N.” I pause and try to control my shaking legs as they repeatedly hit the desk above. Suddenly, the teacher turns and stares coldly at me. Immediately looking at my paper I can almost hear the loud unbearable beating of a drum that is my fear as I continue to journey through the world of vocabulary. I am completely petrified.
Before this test my life was running perfectly like the individual grains of silky smooth sand flowing through an ancient time glass. I had no problems at all. Life was great. Now I am stuck in the containment of a place I have never been before and going through a test I don’t understand. What if I don’t pass? What if I get the worse marks? Questions like these are ricocheting back and forth in my mind, as I become more and more frightened. Oh no! Only eighty minutes left.
As I finish what were the last words for the next hour and a half I shuffle towards my luxurious chair that is my sanctuary, preparing myself for an afternoon of boredom, dullness and tedious questions like “How long left sir?” and “Can I go to the toilet?” As I slump down in my comfy chair I scope round the room looking for troublemakers. They all look calm and quiet except one boy who seems tense and terrified. He is tall, very scraggy and has his hair spiked up like the individual prongs of a hedgehog. I can catch a glimpse of his leg trembling rapidly beneath his desk as he gnaws at his fingernails.
What an idiot! One simple test out of this child’s life and he is treating it as if it is a matter of life or death. I feel like going up to him and telling him that he looks like a moron hoping to make him cry. That would be hilarious. It would also pass at least another ten minutes of what is the most tedious thing I could be doing on a day off. I don’t want to be here any more than the children do. The same old clouted chair and bedraggled carpet make me sick. Oh well only another seventy-five uneventful minutes to go.
“Time’s up!” I place my pencil down and begin to regain my sanity again. After an excruciating hour and a half I survived. My head begins to cool as I fumble around in my pencil case placing every item I used delicately in its place. Even though I have completed my task I can still taste fear in my mouth. The stale but very robust flavour lingers in my mouth. Attempting to leave the room I suddenly pause. Mouth wide open I try to scream but nothing comes out.
Several blue patched sheets are now being handed out by the teacher to every boy in the room. He was short, chunky and bald headed. Across my desk the teacher positioned the smooth sheet as I caught a whiff of what smelt like pungent cheap deodorant coming from his disgusting sweaty armpits in return. “You may begin!” echoed around the room as I surveyed my test terrified of every moment that lie before me.